Public Spaces Need More Courtesy, Not More Rules

A recent social media thread debating who can or cannot use lifts sparked a wave of opinions — some practical, others defensive — and revealed much about our attitudes toward public courtesy. The question was simple: are lifts meant only for strollers, wheelchairs, and the elderly, or can the physically healthy use them too?

The truth is straightforward — lifts are for everyone. But not everyone needs them equally. That’s where courtesy, or the lack of it, defines who we are as a society.

We’ve all seen it before. The lift doors open, and a crowd rushes in before allowing others to step out. Young, able-bodied people push past parents with prams, senior citizens, or those with mobility aids — all because everyone’s in a hurry. There’s no rule forbidding the healthy from using lifts, but there’s an unspoken one about empathy and patience. Sadly, that’s the one we’ve forgotten.

Choosing the stairs or escalator when we can isn’t a sacrifice — it’s a small act of consideration. The lift is a shared space, not a shortcut to convenience. When someone who truly needs it is left waiting because others can’t be bothered to take another route, it reflects the quiet erosion of social empathy.

The same lack of awareness shows up in our trains. Despite bright signs in LRTs and MRTs asking commuters to offer seats to the elderly, pregnant women, and the disabled, many remain glued to their phones, pretending not to notice. It’s easier to act blind than to act kind. What used to be basic manners has now become a rare virtue.

We like to call ourselves a “caring society,” but caring isn’t a slogan — it’s a habit. It’s the way we behave in the small, ordinary moments: holding a door, giving way, or standing up for someone else. These gestures don’t cost us anything, yet they reveal everything about our character.

In many ways, a lift or train carriage is a miniature Malaysia — a small, shared space where people of all backgrounds, ages, and abilities must coexist. How we behave in that space mirrors how we function as a nation: whether we can wait our turn, respect others, and think beyond ourselves.

If a simple lift ride can spark debates about who belongs and who doesn’t, maybe the real issue isn’t access — it’s attitude. The lift is for everyone, yes, but how we use it reflects who we are when no one’s watching. Courtesy isn’t about rules or reminders; it’s about respect, empathy, and awareness. Because in the end, what lifts a society isn’t machinery — it’s manners.